


Strength of Heart

by liuet



Category: Howl Series - Diana Wynne Jones, Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types, JONES Diana Wynne - Works, The Chronicles of Chrestomanci - Diana Wynne Jones
Genre: Gen, Rotating POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2018-12-29 18:11:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 14,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12090573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liuet/pseuds/liuet
Summary: Ingary is in trouble (again), leaving Howl and Sophie no choice but to traverse worlds to ask for help from Chrestomanci, a powerful nine-lived enchanter.Post-canon for both series. Makes more sense if you've read both, but not strictly necessary.





	1. In which trouble pays a visit

There was an air of unease that had settled over Chrestomanci Castle in the past few days, brought on by the mere fact that nothing had happened for the last three weeks. No sudden trips, no dire emergencies, not even a breakout of the flu amongst the staff. Christopher Chant had even managed to make it through a good deal of paperwork without getting whisked away on some errand not of his choosing. While this ought to have been a relief, it was just the opposite.

If Christopher, as the current Chrestomanci, wasn’t being teleported around the world to take care of the troubles people found, it generally meant that trouble was about to come find him.

He was proven right an hour before lunch, when he was called away from his study by a loud ruckus in the entrance hall. With a teal-and-purple dressing gown decorated with silvery patterns like ripples in a pond on over his day suit, Christopher strode through the corridors towards the entrance hall. He was still a ways off when he first heard the voices shouting.

“—supposed to do?!”

“He’s _your son_ and you—“

“Oh, so he’s _my son_ when he’s being difficult—“

“—should have been setting a better example for him—“

“ _This is not my fault!_ ”

Christopher slowed as he neared the grand staircase leading down to the large, open area where the two people shouting were waiting. He could see Millie hurrying in on the ground floor already, followed by Miss Bessemer carrying a small pile of towels.

He paused at the top of the stairs for a moment to see just who his guests were. It was a man and a woman, the man perhaps ten years younger than Christopher himself, and the woman a few years younger still. At first, Christopher was confused as to why the two were standing so close together when they were arguing so vehemently - the man with his arm around the woman’s shoulders, and she with an arm around his waist - but then he noticed how heavily the man was leaning on her, and how her arm was less affectionately around his waist and more gripping his side to keep him upright.

The woman looked at Millie and frowned, and demanded to know where Chrestomanci was. Millie, in turn, put her hands on her hips and looked like she was about to start a lecture on the proper addressing of the mistress of the house when one was barging in whilst in the middle of an argument. Miss Bessemer looked similarly offended.

“Could someone please explain what’s going on, here?” Christopher drawled, finally moving down to the staircase’s landing.

The man’s eyes snapped up towards him, meeting his gaze with an intense glare. Christopher’s own expression went vague. There was sharp intelligence in that green gaze, honed by the intensity of his emotions. Whoever the man was, he was dangerous. The woman’s gaze followed a moment later.

“Are you Chrestomanci?” the man asked in a gruff voice. Christopher thought that the man’s breathing hitched slightly before he’d spoken.

He nodded. “I am.”

“Good,” continued the man, starting to straighten up for a moment. “We need your… hel…p…”

His strength gave out, and he pitched forward, the woman holding him’s strength not enough to keep him from ending up sprawled on the marble floor.

“ _Howl!_ ” the woman cried, half-collapsing, half-kneeling next to the man.

That seemed to be the cue for Millie and Miss Bessemer to swing into action, while Christopher took the rest of the stairs three at a time to get to them.

“Come on, dear,” Millie was saying to the woman, gently coaxing her away from the man so that Miss Bessemer could tend to him, “let’s get you someplace more comfortable. You look about to collapse yourself. We’ll fix you both up and then you can explain what’s happened that’s got you all out of sorts.”

Christopher meanwhile crouched down by Miss Bessemer to see what had happened. The man was unconscious. There was no stain of blood on his clothing, which looked to be of a quality that even Christopher considered splendid, and no visible injuries. Exhaustion, then? Christopher wondered if he should call Michael to take a look at him. It was unfortunate that Jason had decided to take a holiday with his wife that month, but Michael would do.

“Let’s get him into the parlor,” he suggested instead.

The small party moved to the room just off the entrance hall. Christopher, aided by some magic, moved the man from where he’d fallen to lay him out on the settee. Millie guided the woman to one of the plump chairs, while Miss Bessemer went to fetch coffee - and perhaps something a little stronger, as well.

Mille was still speaking in soft, gentle tones to the still-distraught woman as Christopher finally did summon Michael. Trouble, indeed. Unless he was mistaken, both the man and woman that had landed in his entryway were powerful magic users. The man, at the very least, was a dangerous one to cross; he’d argued with his usually easygoing wife enough times to know not do discount the woman either, though. The last few weeks’ reprieve had apparently ended, and Christopher could only think that it had perhaps been the calm before the proverbial storm.


	2. In which some explanations are offered

Howl slowly roused back to consciousness. At first, he wasn’t sure if he was conscious or dreaming or something else entirely, he kept fading back and forth from one to the other. Eventually the sounds of the real world started to filter back in and feeling began to return along with his other senses. He was lying down, his eyes were closed. There were voices coming from somewhere, but he wasn’t quite conscious enough to determine who or where they were, nor what they were saying. He did recognize that there were both male and female voices speaking.

The pain began to return, as well. It started with an ache in his side, and a strain in some of his muscles. Then came the needling pain that seemed to emanate from behind his eyes and into his skull. It felt dulled by something, medicine perhaps.

Medicine. Drugs. That would be why he was so detached from his own consciousness. The question that remained, then, was how he had come to be where he was. He’d been so drained, he’d used too much of his magic, and then there was something about the castle they’d gone to that had sapped his strength further, until he couldn’t stay conscious anymore… And he’d been drained because…

As the memories came rushing back in, Howl gasped, eyes flying open. He started to push himself up.

“Sophie! Sophie, we have to find—“ he started trying to say, but even to his own ears the words sounded like mush.

Almost immediately, hands were forcing him back down and he found he had far less strength than he’d thought. Sophie’s face appeared in his field of vision, a deep crease of worry on her forehead and tears beginning to well up in her eyes. Against his wishes, he felt the hot sting of tears forming in his own and he furiously blinked them back. It would do absolutely no good if both of them lost their senses.

That Sophie was about to cry was a testament to the severity of the situation, however. She was usually the sensible one, and he was the one liable to fly off the handle and get overly emotional about things. He reached out a hand towards her, and she caught it up in one of hers. A sliver of the tension left her.

Another face appeared next to Sophie’s, this one an unfamiliar man with brown hair and an ill-fitted suit jacket.

“Ah, good, you’re awake,” said the man. Howl tried to scowl at him, but was unsure of how well it worked. “It’ll be a while before you’re entirely recovered. You shouldn’t move around too much just yet.”

“Where’s Chrestomanci?” he asked, this time much more articulately.

“Here,” came the same drawling baritone he’d heard earlier.

The brown-haired man’s face disappeared, replaced a few seconds later by Chrestomanci’s. Howl thought he had a look of vague disinterest about him, though his features were handsome. Not as handsome as he was, of course, but enough to be considered as such. Too much of a stiff collar, though, Howl thought.

“Now will you please explain who you are, why you’re here, and how you came to be in such a state?” Chrestomanci requested.

“It’s our son, Morgan,” was what Howl started with. “He’s been… taken.”

Chrestomanci’s expression didn’t change. Howl felt his heart fall to the pit of his stomach, wondering why he had come to this man for help when he showed no interest at all in helping. He’d expected the statement to at least pique the man’s sympathy, if nothing else.

“That explains _almost_ one of my questions,” Chrestomanci commented dryly.

“We need your help to get him back,” Howl sneered, hating to admit to the fact. “He’s under the control of a very powerful demon.”

“We only barely made it to your castle,” Sophie added. Howl’s heart sank further as he heard how tired she sounded. “Howl exhausted himself in transporting us, even with my support. Keeping the demon off our trail long enough for us to get away took everything we had.”

“I see,” was all that Chrestomanci said.

“This is worse than the time with the djinns,” Howl heard Sophie mutter.

“And where exactly is this demon?” the enchanter inquired.

Sophie looked at Howl, unable to answer the question. He’d been the one to do the actual transportation spell. It had been even more complicated than the normal ones, since he’d had to work in a cross-world portal. With his castle door it had been easier as the spell was set on a stationary object, and he’d been more or less reverse-engineering and copying another spell - the one that had gotten him from Wales to Ingary in the first place. Working a one-time portal to a world he’d never been to, regardless that it was in the same Series as his home world, while avoiding a demon was not something he _ever_ hoped to repeat.

Howl shut his eyes tight for a moment. Usually, he’d be complaining by now, or trying to find a way out or around the situation. But it was Morgan at stake. His own _son_ , his and Sophie’s. Perhaps he’d matured a little in the ten years since becoming a father, he thought ruefully.

“Series Three, World B,” he said finally, eyes still shut as he prepared for the inevitable anger that would follow his next words, “but it has the means to access Twelve D, too.”


	3. In which Sophie has to do most of the talking

“ _What?!_ ” Chrestomanci shouted, his words echoing in the room far more than the walls ought to have allowed. “ _How_?!”

Sophie flinched at the sudden change in demeanor in the tall enchanter. He had been calm, poised, to the point of looking disinterested in what was going with that vague look on his face. Now he was angry, his eyes flashing, nostrils flaring.

Howl whimpered a little, screwing up his brow in the way he did when he had a hangover.

“Trans-dimensional portal between 3B and 12D, built into the front door of my castle…”

She assumed that the numbers and letters Howl had said made sense to the man in a way that it didn’t make sense to her. That the world Howl had transported the two of them to was not in the world of her Ingary or Howl’s Wales, she had known. The numbers Howl had told Chrestomanci must have been something he’d studied in university.

The enchanter had lowered his voice from the thunderous outburst it had been, but it was still rather louder than it needed to be.

“You mean to tell me that there’s not only a demon on the loose in Series Three, but it has the means to come to _my Series_? _Through_ your _front door_? I suppose you want me to be grateful for your coming to me and letting me know how much trouble was about to be dumped on my doorstep! That is at the very least a breach of inter-world magical law and I ought to be turning you over to the authorities!”

Howl groaned and tried to turn away. Sophie, however, was not one to take being lectured in that fashion, important enchanter or no. She sat up straight as a rod, tearing her gaze away from Howl to scowl at Chrestomanci.

“Now wait just a darn second,” she started in the tone of voice she used when the males in her household were being particularly difficult to deal with. “We’re not asking you to be grateful - we’re asking you to help _get our son back_. And from what Howl’s told me, keeping magical order is part of _your_ _job_.”

“Series Three is out of my jurisdiction,” Chrestomanci drawled, the anger that had been so hot a few moments ago cooling to a simmer just below the surface as the vague look settled back into place. “You’ll have to go through the authorities in your own world, I’m afraid.”

“But we _are_ the authority in our world!” Sophie exclaimed, exasperated.

“What’s all this shouting, then?” The woman who had guided Sophie to the chair earlier had reappeared, hands on her hips and giving them all the look of a mother who’d found her children tracking mud onto the carpets.

“It seems we may have a demon on our hands, my love,” Chrestomanci replied, though his gaze stayed on Sophie.

“That sounds unpleasant,” the woman commented. “I do hope it won’t be expecting to stay for dinner.”

“Does this mean you’re going to help us?” Sophie asked Chrestomanci.

“Unfortunately, it seems I don’t have much of a choice,” the enchanter said sourly.

Sophie continued to scowl at him. He didn’t have to sound so put out by helping. Perhaps the man was as much of a coward as Howl was, and just wanted to do the easy parts of his job keeping the peace.

“Would anyone care to explain why we have a demon on our hands, and why I heard all that shouting?” the woman insisted.

“I would also like an explanation for _why_ there’s a demon on the loose, as well,” Chrestomanci added, then to the woman, “I confess I lost my head for a moment when I found out about the demon.”

Sophie looked down at Howl, who still looked to be in a bit of pain. Of course, knowing him, he could have been letting on that it was much worse than it actually was. His breathing was on the edge of ragged, and she could hear the small hitch when he breathed in due to the injury on his side. Their landing in this world hadn’t been very graceful, and Howl had hit the side of a stone wall quite hard. The brown-haired man who had been in the room earlier had proclaimed that Howl had cracked a rib. Sophie had luckily landed a few feet from the wall and had only scraped up her palms on the gravel path, along with a few minor aches in other joints and muscles.

When Howl didn’t open his eyes or do anything other than squeeze Sophie’s hand, she drew in a long breath before launching into the explanation.

“There was this box. It came back with some explorers returning from an expedition in Alberia, and of course the King set the Royal Magicians to the task of finding out what it was - and what was inside. Ancient Alberia’s known for some very interesting treasures. Ben - he’s the other Royal Magician - had even less of an idea of how to go about accomplishing it than Howl, so he left it up to us.

“The box itself was… odd. I remember thinking that the first time Howl brought it home,” she explained. To Howl, she remarked, “Even Calcifer thought it was odd.”

Her husband nodded slightly. Still no help from him, then.

“What was odd about it?” asked the woman.

“That’s just the thing,” Sophie said to her, “there wasn’t really anything. It was just the feeling you got when you looked at it. It was this plain, lacquered box with all sorts of scribbles etched into the surface. And of course, it wouldn’t open, which was why the King had given it to his Royal Magicians.

“Well, the moment we touched it, we could sense that there was more to the box than just being a box. There was something inside it, but we had no idea what it was. Tried every spell we knew, and a few that we made up on the spot. Nothing worked. Nothing in any books on it, either.”

Sophie grimaced at the memory of how long it had taken the two of them to check every book they had access to for information - Howl’s personal library (which Sophie still hadn’t managed to organize), the Royal library, the National library, and delivered parcels of books from various other countries that they had written to.

“And then one day I came back from shopping and there’s the box just… sitting open on the worktable, empty. No clue as to what was inside but a small bit of dust.”

“Was it your son that opened the box?” Chrestomanci asked, speaking in a preternaturally calm voice.

Sophie’s gaze dropped to her hands. “Yes. Neither of us have the foggiest idea how he managed it, but he did.”

“And?”

“Calcifer was the first one to notice something was off,” Sophie went on. “Said something had gotten out of the box when Morgan opened it, but he couldn’t see what it was or how he’d done it. And then Morgan just… wandered off. I found him in the yard, but there was something… different. Something about his eyes. And then Howl got home, sensed something was amiss, met me out in the yard, and…”

Everything had been rather confusing, and Sophie still hadn’t quite sorted it all out in her mind yet. The feeling of absolute terror she’d felt as she’d seen something that wasn’t her son looking back at her through the boy’s eyes was worse than anything else she’d ever faced, and she’d faced quite a few things. She remembered Howl bursting into the yard, a spell half-formed at his fingertips. And then the light dimmed, like it had suddenly skipped most of the afternoon and gone to twilight in the space of a heartbeat.

“The demon spoke to us, through Morgan,” Sophie whispered, her vision still clouded by her memories. “It told us not to interfere. It said if we interfered that it would kill Morgan. We had no choice but to let it go, until we could come up with a plan.

“Of course, the plan we did come up with failed spectacularly,” she lamented, her voice back to its usual tone. “And before either of us could get eaten, we decided that an escape was necessary, and here we are.”

Sophie found that it was suddenly much harder to keep her breathing steady than it had been. Tears would start welling up at any moment. The gravity of the situation was sinking in as the shock wore off. Leaving Morgan in the clutches of the demon was worse than any of the times she’d feared for Howl’s life, or her own. And this world was much further away from home than she’d ever been.

“Oh, you poor dear,” the woman cooed. “Let’s get the two of you to a guest room, and we’ll figure out how to handle things in the morning when we’re all fresh.”

Sophie nodded glumly, daring to take hope from the woman’s words.


	4. In which there is no argument

The guests had been settled into a hastily arranged guest room. Miss Bessemer had begun the preparations even before Millie had found her. With a suggestion to bring some dinner up to them a little later, Millie left the housekeeper to her tasks and went to corner Christopher.

She found him lounging on the big, plush chair in his study, with Michael awkwardly pacing in circles in front of him. Christopher had a vague look on his face as he listened to Michael, who was expatiating on what they had all learned from their guests. Millie paused in the doorway briefly, saw Christopher’s eyes move in her direction, and shut the door behind her as she came fully into the room. Michael’s speech barely slowed.

“—must have known the potential danger of the contents of the box. For whatever seal was on it to have lasted so long with no ill effect, and to stand up to the testing of two accomplished wizards, it would have had to been placed by—“

“Michael,” Millie interrupted finally. He trailed off, his feet stilling with the words. “While your theories are fascinating, I’m afraid I need a word with my husband.”

“Yes, of course, madam.” Michael bobbed his head at the two of them and ducked out of the room.

Christopher’s expression grew less vague as he looked up at Millie and raised an eyebrow at her. She folded her arms and stared him down.

“You _are_ going to help them, aren’t you?” she enjoined, eyes narrowing.

Christopher drew in a deep breath, a troubled look crossing his features. “If it comes to Twelve, then I’ll be obligated to do something. Until then, we should wait and perhaps gather some more information.”

“It’s their _son_ , Christopher,” Millie continued, lowering herself down onto the edge of the seat as her husband shifted to make room. “If it was Roger or Julia, or even Cat or Janet, you can’t tell me that you wouldn’t do the same thing. I know I would.”

An arm encircled her shoulders, pulling them closer together.

“Perhaps you’re right,” her husband murmured. “I ought to be the last person to judge someone for dashing in when a loved one is in danger…”

One side of Millie’s mouth quirked up into an amused smile. “Dashing. Yes, you are quite dashing in the middle of your heroics, my love.”

“What worries me is that the boy was able to open the box,” Christopher mused. “Two adult magic users weren’t able to break the seal, and yet a boy was…? Either the boy had magic that complemented the box’s, or something wanted him to open it.”

“A disquieting thought,” Millie remarked.

“Indeed.”

“Looks like we’ll be needing a few extra settings for the next few days. I ought to let Miss Bessemer know.”

“What would you have done if I’d said I wasn’t going to help them?”

Millie rose gracefully to her feet, her husband’s arm falling off her shoulder as she did. He did not bestir himself except to look up at her. She merely raised her eyebrows as she looked at him.

The thought that Christopher wouldn’t help the couple that had landed in their laps had hardly crossed Millie’s mind. It was partly due to the knowledge that she would have kept on him until he’d agreed, but she didn’t expect that it would have taken very long. The man had probably made up his mind to help before they’d been settled into a guest room, but needed someone else to reinforce the decision by attempting to convince him. For as headstrong as he could be, experience had taught him to be cautious. Millie could hardly fault him for it. Both of them had learned some hard lessons over the years.

Try as he might to hide it, however, Christopher was a caring man. He loved his family, and would do anything to the absolute limits of his power to protect them.

Christopher slumped back into the chair with a wry expression.

“You’re right, darling, I needn’t have asked,” he sighed.

Millie smiled warmly and reached out to stoke his cheek. “No, you needn’t have. Shall I send Michael back to you if I find him?”

“If you would.”

Millie nodded, and turned to leave.


	5. In which an arrangement is made

Dinner turned out to be a solemn affair. Millie apparently had not found Michael again before the meal, and Christopher had been left to his own thoughts until he emerged from his study. The maids had peeked in on their guests and found them both asleep, and so dinner was just the usual group of people - being the Family, and the rest of Chrestomanci’s staff that was at the Castle on a regular basis.

Michael did turn up to dinner, though he didn’t continue on his train of thought that he’d been on in the study. Business was not discussed at the table. Instead, the topic of conversation tried to remain in the realm of the ordinary, everyday goings on and hobbies of the various inhabitants of Chrestomanci Castle. Christopher only listened with half an ear, his thoughts still on the topic of demons. If anyone noticed that he wasn’t paying attention, they didn’t say anything. Most of those gathered knew him well enough to be able to tell his usual vague look from one of actual distraction and daydream.

When the last of the plates were cleared away and the unspoken dismissal from the table given, Christopher caught Michael’s eye.

“Care to continue where we left off?” Christopher asked. Michael nodded, and fell into step with Christopher, who added, “Excellent. We’ll use your workshop, if you don’t mind.”

Michael did not mind, and a few minutes later they had made themselves as comfortable as they could in Michael’s workshop. Christopher had perched himself on the wide window sill and was looking out over the castle grounds. Michael was finishing cleaning up the worktable that he’d dumped the various vials and jars full of ingredients onto when he’d hurriedly put together a pain-killing concoction for their guest. The rest of the workshop was as it always was: a wild mix of magical equipment, books, papers, scrolls, and ingredients, arranged in a way that had been meticulous when it had originally been done but as things had been taken out and used, the system had gotten obscured. Unlike Christopher’s study, the room felt oddly homey and warm.

“What is the likelihood that the demon will find and use the portal from Three to Twelve?” Christopher mused.

“Likely, I would think, though not a certainty by any means,” Michael guessed. “From what they’ve said, the demon has their boy, and if the boy has knowledge of the portal, then we can assume that the demon either does or will get it without much trouble.”

“Twelve D…”

“That one’s quite similar to Twelve C, isn’t it?” Michael asked.

Christopher nodded. “C and D are very similar. If A and B are near opposites, C and D sit somewhat in the middle of them in terms of their magics, along with G and H. E is somewhat more like B; F and I have wildly different systems but are much closer to A. The main signifier with C and D is that on both worlds, their magical communities are more or less hidden from society. Almost like that side-world I was stuck in, the one with the accidental Guy Fawkes outcome, but without the… rather unfortunate stigma for the most part.

“I believe G was the one we had some trouble with some years ago with a demon, too, though that got sorted out somewhere in Series Four, if I’m remembering correctly. Or was it One?”

“Before my time,” Michael lamented, shaking his head.

“Before mine, as well, actually,” Christopher said. He’d only heard the story from Gabriel DeWitt but it had stuck somewhere in the back of his mind for whatever reason.

The silence went on for another moment before Michael cleared his throat and went straight to the heart of the matter. “As I was saying earlier, whoever placed the seal on the box must have been very powerful to withstand millennia of wear and then to be subjected to testing by mature wizards.”

“Meaning the demon could possibly just have been waiting for the right person to come along to open up,” Christopher reasoned. Michael nodded gravely. “Damn.”

“We need to know more about what we’re dealing with, here,” Michael argued. “One of us needs to go.”

Christopher looked back out the window as he considered this. The thought had occurred to him, as well, which fact Michael had probably guessed. It was not an option that he wished to pursue, but it looked more and more like it might be the only choice.

He couldn’t go himself, he was needed in Twelve. He didn’t want to send Cat; despite the younger enchanter being eighteen, he didn’t have the experience that would be needed for a trip such as this. Millie would likely go if he asked her to, but he hated to put her harm’s way (regardless of what she might have to say on the subject; the two of them had had plenty of arguments over the years where Millie had asserted that she was not helpless and would not be left behind, but whether she was helpless was not the question, as Christopher knew better than just about anyone how not helpless Millie was). Michael seemed to be the only logical option. He was capable, he’d been to other series before and knew how to conduct himself, and Christopher trusted him more or less implicitly.

He turned back to Michael.

“I’ll go,” Michael said. Christopher must have looked surprised, because he continued, “It makes the most sense, so I just figured…”

“No, unfortunately, you are correct,” Christopher sighed. “Having you go makes the most sense. I can’t say I like it, but it’s the most logical course of action for now.”

“In that case, I’ll set out this evening, if you’ll permit me.”

Christopher nodded. The sooner they could get information, the sooner this whole thing could be over, or so he hoped. He had no wish to deal with guests for longer than it was necessary.


	6. In which Howl makes a promise

The room was dark, and for a moment Howl thought that he’d woken up back at home and the last day had been nothing more than a nightmare. But the bed-curtains were all wrong, and there were none of the familiar noises of the house around him. The only thing familiar about where he’d woken up was Sophie, curled up next to him like a cat.

Carefully, he slipped out from under the blankets, his movements only a little stiff. He was still wearing the same clothes he’d had on earlier, minus his shoes. Sophie looked like she’d fallen asleep in her clothes, as well, he noted when he glanced back over at her. There was still an ache in his side, but much of the pain had subsided already, only spiking when he breathed in too deeply. The magic-ability dampening effect he had felt earlier continued to be present, like looking at the world through a window full of smudges, and annoying him just enough that it set his senses on edge.

The room itself held little decoration that could be easily made out in the dark. It did, however, have a large window with heavy drapes drawn across it; Howl could see light peeking out from its edges. It was dark outside; most of the light that Howl had seen was from the Castle itself, lighting the grounds immediately surrounding the place and reflecting back up into the windows. The moon was tucked away behind a thick, monotone layer of clouds that reminded him a little too much of Wales.

It reminded him that he was in another world. He had grown used to the idea, of course, having spent nearly half of his life in a different world than the one he’d been born in, but Ingary felt more like home than Wales ever had. He loved the place but it wasn’t home. And in this world he was in, so much like the one he had come from, made him feel further from home than he had ever been.

Had he made the right decision, coming to Chrestomanci for help? As much as it had rankled his pride to ask for it, he had needed help. He’d asked Ben first, as part of the failed plan that he and Sophie had come up with to try and force the demon back into the box. Asking his friend had been less of a blow to his pride because he could justify it in his mind that he was merely recruiting another person for his plan. One small brush the with demon had proven just how badly they had all underestimated its power, however.

At least in its anger the demon had gone after the adults and not harmed Morgan. It was perhaps the one small bit of relief that Howl could think of. He and Sophie had escaped while Ben bought them the few seconds of time he could. Howl didn’t know what his friend’s fate had been. Ben was resourceful, and had survived in the direst of circumstances; Howl wouldn’t mourn for him until he was absolutely certain of his demise.

He’d run away again, though. As usual. He was a coward, had always been a coward. Given the choice between fighting and retreating, he nearly always chose to retreat. Even when he was backed into a wall or cornered, he usually found some way around whatever conflict had set upon him. This time was no different. The only difference was that this time, he didn’t feel as confident about the decision as he usually did. God, was he growing a conscious? He hoped not. He already had Sophie bullying him into doing what needed to be done, he didn’t need that annoying little voice in his own head telling him what to do, too.

A mumble from Sophie pulled his attention back to his immediate surroundings. Tugging the curtains closed again, he went back to the large, plush bed and slid back under the covers. Sophie was still asleep, just mumbling to herself as she was wont to do occasionally. For what felt like the first time in ages, Howl’s lips quirked into a smile. He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled himself closer, curling his form around hers and soaking in her warmth.

“N… Mo…gan…” Her mumbles were slightly more coherent now that he was closer to her.

“Don’t worry, love, we’ll get him back,” Howl murmured. They had to. “He’s as sharp as you, and just as resourceful. Plus, Calcifer’s there somewhere. He’ll keep an eye on the boy… I hope.”

Who knew what Calcifer would be able to do with another demon around, though. Calcifer was still maintaining parts of the castle, so he couldn’t be gone for long. What would the demon from the box think of a fire demon, anyway?

“We’ll get him back, Sophie,” Howl whispered again. “I promise. Whatever it takes, we’ll get him back.”

It was the bravest thing he could think of, despite not feeling very brave at all. There was really no other option, though. Morgan was his son, and no demon was going to go after his family and get away with it. When the Witch of the Waste’s demon had gone after his sister’s family, that had been bad enough, but this… that annoying voice in the back of his head was telling him to stand up and fight again. Part of him wanted nothing more than to take on the demon, but mostly he was terrified. No, he would make a plan, a better plan than the last time, and he would get Morgan back. No fighting (or at least not much) needed…


	7. In which a Cat and a griffin make an appearance

The next morning found Sophie more well-rested than she had believed possible, considering how the previous day’s events weighed on her mind. Howl was cocooned in a pile of blankets and only vaguely responded when Sophie addressed him. Assuming she was on her own, she got herself ready, silently thanked the maids for having found her a clean dress that looked about her size. As she was leaving, Howl was still a softly snoring lump under the blankets. Shaking her head, she closed the door behind her and made her way through the castle to find some breakfast.

Before long, she realized she was rather lost. She hadn’t gotten a good sense of where anything was in the place the previous day, though she secretly thought that even if she’d been given a proper tour she would have gotten lost. After wandering for a while, Chrestomanci’s wife found her and guided her in the right direction.

Millie, as she insisted on Sophie calling her, was just as kind as she had been the day before. She reminded Sophie of Lettie in some ways. Lettie had always been naturally good with people, whereas Sophie had been more comfortable dealing with other things. And like Lettie (and herself), Millie seemed like the sort of person who could easily hold her own in an argument. Sophie expected that she had to be, being married to Chrestomanci.

The room that Millie led Sophie to was a large dining room - or, at least, large to Sophie’s standards. Considering the sheer size of the castle, she thought it was a small dining room. She’d been in the main dining hall at the King’s castle in Kingsbury, and as Chrestomanci’s castle was nearly of a size with it she assumed that they would have an equally large dining hall somewhere.

The hall was already occupied by a small handful of people. Chrestomanci was there, in an iridescent dressing gown with a pattern like a peacock’s tail feathers trailing over the shoulders and down the back. A few others sat around the table, some reading the newspaper as they nibbled on scones and sipped tea, some holding quiet conversations with each other. The sideboard held a feast.

After they fixed their plates, Millie gestured Sophie to a seat down one side of the table and took a seat next to Chrestomanci herself. One of the maids appeared to offer Sophie tea, which she happily accepted as Millie made precursory introductions to the others at the table. They were various people of Chrestomanci’s staff: his secretary, a few consultants, and the librarian (who reminded Sophie a little of a certain book-loving princess).

She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. Without realizing it, she’d gone nearly a full day without eating much of anything. Her stomach seemed eager to make up for it.

“Feeling better now, dear?” Millie asked as Sophie stared down at her now-empty plate.

“Yes, much better,” Sophie assured her. “With everything that happened yesterday, I didn’t even realize…”

“Perfectly understandable,” Millie replied.

Chrestomanci didn’t seem to be paying any attention at all. He had a disinterested look on his face, and though he had a newspaper in one hand, didn’t seem to have turned the page for quite some time. Sophie wondered if he was going to help them at all. From his current disposition, she thought it seemed unlikely. Just as she was about to bring up the topic, however, Chrestomanci perked up for a moment, his gaze sliding over to the dining hall’s tall doors.

A young man walked into the room, closely followed by a griffin. The young man had fluffy blond hair, though more of a golden blond than the color that Howl preferred, and slunk into the room with his hands casually in his trouser pockets. Sophie thought he was trying to be inconspicuous. The griffin behind him, however, was not. It padded gracefully across the floor a half-step behind the blond young man, surveying the room intently. Its eyes held a fierce intelligence, Sophie noted, as it looked at her and cocked its feathery head slightly.

The young man scooted into a chair near Chrestomanci, and the griffin sat on its haunches next to him after moving the chair out of the way.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Cat,” Chrestomanci said, and for a moment Sophie was unsure of which of the new arrivals he had been addressing.

“Sorry,” said the young man, flushing slightly. “We lost track of time.”

Chrestomanci raised an eyebrow, but otherwise said nothing.

“We have a guest, Cat,” Millie said. “This is Sophie Pendragon. She and her husband Howl will be staying with us for the next few days. Sophie, this is Eric Chant. And Klartch.”

Eric bobbed his head in Sophie’s direction, saying just audibly enough for Sophie to hear, “Nice to meet you, Mrs Pendragon.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” said the griffin, who must have been Klartch.

“Just Sophie is fine, thank you. A pleasure,” she replied to the both of them.

Eric was, Millie explained, training to be the next Chrestomanci. He was a relation of Chrestomanci’s; Sophie could see some family resemblance when she looked now, though it was not immediately apparent. Millie and Chrestomanci’s son Roger was off at some sort of conference with his business partner, and their daughter Julia was currently visiting a friend at university. The friend proved to be Chrestomanci’s former ward, Janet. At the mention of Janet’s name, Eric perked up and asked Millie a few questions, which she answered cheerfully.

Before Millie could start in on asking Sophie questions next, however, Sophie noticed Eric and the griffin studying her intently. Sophie frowned and stared back.

“What Series are you from?” Eric asked.

“Er,” Sophie said, trying to remember what Howl had said the day before.

Chrestomanci glanced between them over his newspaper for a moment before turning to Eric. “What would your guess be?”

Eric thought about this for a moment, staring at the plate of food that had been put in front of him rather than at Sophie. He looked back over at Chrestomanci. “One?” Chrestomanci shook his head. “Three?” A nod. “Ah.”

“How could you tell?” Sophie asked curiously.

Eric finished chewing his bite of toast before answering, “Your magic. It’s… it feels a little like mine, but not in a way that it could be from this Series.”

“Oh,” said Sophie, unsure of how else to respond. Despite having lived with Howl and his regular discussions of magical theory with Calcifer, Ben, or whomever else was around to listen Sophie was still confused about most of it. Her magic had come so naturally to her that she hadn’t even realized she was doing it until Howl and Calcifer had pointed it out. She’d gotten much better at it in the intervening years, but there was still a lot of the academic side of it that she felt she would never quite have a head for. Academics, she felt, used far too many ridiculous words and all it did was confuse her.

The griffin, who had by this time delicately gobbled down its entire breakfast, mumbled a question into Eric’s ear and the two of them were lost in quiet conversation. Sophie turned back to Millie, and spent the rest of breakfast mentally sorting out the strange tangle of people whose lives revolved around Chrestomanci Castle.


	8. In which Sophie sees the gardens

Millie took Sophie on a leisurely tour of the Castle after breakfast. The younger woman still looked tired, and with a hint of sadness in her expression, but less distraught than the day before. They’d gotten through the ballroom, dining halls, sitting rooms and lounges, and were just heading towards the library when Sophie finally spoke up.

“He’s not going to help us, is he?” she said, her feet stopping where they were. Millie had to turn and look back at her.

“Wherever did you get that idea?” Millie asked. It was harder than she thought to keep her voice light. She was glad that Sophie was staring down at her feet, lest she see that Millie’s eyes had narrowed accusingly for a moment.

Sophie looked up at Millie, the distraught look back in her eyes. “If he was going to help us, then shouldn’t something be happening by now?”

_Oh dear_ , thought Millie. _The poor girl looks about ready to burst into tears._

“Why don’t we go to the gardens next, instead,” Millie offered. “And then I can explain. The corridor isn’t the best place for conversations.”

Sophie eyed Millie for another moment before nodding, and followed Millie back through the corridors and outside. They walked in silence, though not quite a companionable one. Reflecting on the situation Sophie was in, Millie could understand the other woman’s impatience to some extent. Millie had never been particularly impatient in anything, however, no matter how dire the circumstances. At one point, Christopher had said that he thought it was one of Millie’s greatest strengths; he said she kept him grounded when he was liable to go rushing in at something too soon, that her ability to accept things as they were was often the frame of reference he needed.

This appeared to be one of the times where he had come to the conclusion not to rush in on his own, and she guessed that Sophie’s impatience probably stemmed from Christopher’s nonchalance at breakfast. That, at least, was understandable. Millie had gotten annoyed at him for the same reason countless times in the past, though it was usually because he was trying to avoid doing something much more inane than the actual crisis that had come along with the Pendragons.

Some of the tension left Sophie’s shoulders as they entered the gardens. There were flowers all around, lining the paths that wandered this way and that through the grounds designated as the gardens.

“Chrestomanci has said that he will help,” Millie assured her once they had gone down one of the paths a ways. “He sent someone to your world last night in order to gather more information.”

“Why not go himself?” Sophie asked, looking up from the bed of flowers she had been examining.

Millie gave her a wry smile. “Because despite everything, Chrestomanci does have other duties to attend to, as well.”

Sophie grumbled something about bureaucratic nonsense, which Millie chose to ignore. The demands of the title had annoyed her plenty, too, but she also understood why they were necessary. Sophie changed the topic.

“At breakfast, Eric Chant said my magic felt like his,” she said. “Do you know what he meant?”

“I couldn’t be certain,” Millie said, “but knowing that there may be a similarity, one can see it, I suppose. It must be in how your magics work.”

“I can talk life into things,” Sophie offered.

“Ah, yes. That would be it,” Millie answered. “Cat’s strongest when it comes to dwimmer: magic that calls to the life in all things.”

“Is that magic exclusive to your world?”

“I don’t believe it’s exclusive to this world, no. Though, the word may be, I’m not sure. You’d have to ask my husband.”

Sophie mulled this over for a few moments as she went back to studying the flowers. Millie stood patiently a few paces further down the path, half an eye on the garden and half an eye on Sophie. When Sophie straightened and turned back to Millie, it looked like she had decided on something, though whatever it was Sophie was choosing to keep to herself.

The conversation after that turned to more mundane topics, lasting them until they were making their way back towards the castle doors. Just before they made it back to the steps, the door banged open and Cat and Klartch came speeding out. They only narrowly avoided a collision with the two women because Klartch spread his wings, grabbed Cat by his upper arms and leaped over them, landing ungracefully in the grass in a tangle of limbs and wings.

“Sorry Millie!” Cat called out, the apology echoed by Klartch a moment later.

Millie sighed. “You ought to be more careful,” she chided.

Sophie was muttering, “Just as bad as Morgan…”

Cat scrambled to his feet, looking sheepish. Klartch trailed behind him. Wherever the one went, the other was soon to follow… With another apology to Millie and Sophie, the two bounded off in the direction of the stables. Millie and Sophie gave each other the same amused look and shook their heads before going to find Sophie something suitable to wear to dinner.


	9. In which dinner is interrupted

When Christopher didn’t hear from Michael the first day, he didn’t worry. It took time to gather information. When he didn’t hear after a second day, he began to wonder if Michael was having trouble. When a third day had gone by with not a single message of any sort, he worried. He’d managed to keep everyone but Millie from realizing how uncommon it was to not have any word yet; Millie had picked up on his growing uneasiness by the end of the second day and had confronted him on the evening of the third day.

He’d thankfully not been called away since their guests had shown up, which would have complicated matters considerably. On the other hand, it meant that when he wasn’t actively working on anything, there was a small voice in the back of his mind nagging at him that he ought to be doing something more. The sooner he dealt with this problem, the sooner it would go away, and the sooner he could get back to his unpredictable routine of cleaning up problems around Series Twelve. As the days passed, the more Christopher was insistent on doing something _soon_.

The wizard had not come down from his room at all the first day, though his wife had spent most of it with Millie. The second day, the wizard had emerged from the room with a pathetic melancholy that was worse than any of Cat’s — hell, worse than some of his own — spells of adolescent moping. Despite that he ought to have been physically more or less recovered, he seemed nearly as bad as when he’d first appeared. He’d trailed after his wife as they wandered the castle and grounds throughout the afternoon, and he barely said two words at all the day’s meals combined. The third day’s melancholia was less pronounced than the second, but it still tinged any interactions with the man. It was setting Christopher’s teeth on edge.

When whatever storm cloud that had apparently been hanging over the wizard’s head abruptly vanished on the morning of the fourth day, Christopher was surprised. The man was disgustingly cheerful, and Christopher couldn’t help but sympathize with the man’s wife, who was scowling at him and grumbling.

Christopher managed to avoid him until the usual formal dinner the Castle held, when everyone was gathering before the dining room. He’d somehow managed to have what appeared to be a different suit again that evening, but Christopher had felt the magic being used earlier in the day that had no doubt gone into fixing the one he’d had the previous evenings into something appropriate for dinner. It was flashy, nearly as flashy as some of Christopher’s dressing gowns; the jacket was an emerald green with black embroidery and what looked to be mother of pearl buttons, with a cream waistcoat (matching mother of pearl buttons) and black trousers (emerald ribbon down the side of the legs). Christopher frowned slightly, stomping down the urge to smooth back his already-smoothed hair.

The wizard flashed him a charming smile when he noticed Christopher looking in his direction, nodded in greeting, and turned back to his wife next to him.

“I’m beginning to regret this,” Christopher grumbled at Millie. “I don’t like him.”

“Nonsense, my love,” Millie replied, amicably skeptical. “Why not?”

“Because,” he drawled, “I find that I cannot abide someone would _waste_ that much magic on changing an entire suit for an evening.”

Millie merely raised her eyebrows at him. Christopher barely noticed, as he had gone back to watching his guests as Cat approached them and introduced them to Marianne, who was joining them for the evening. Alas, that he had already bound himself to help, though his current hesitation was hardly a professional complaint. He would still help in his capacity as Chrestomanci, if only ensure that the demon that had been loosed on their world didn’t try and slip into Series Twelve.

The doors to the dining room finally opened with the announcement that dinner was now served, and everyone trailed in to find their seats.

The soup course went smoothly, as did the entrée. It was at the main course that things began to get out of hand. Christopher could not help but keep one ear on the conversations of his guests and those around them, being Cat, Marianne Pinhoe, his secretary Tom, and one of the newer accountants on their far side. While the wizard had woven his way through the soup course asking intelligent questions about the workings of the castle and leading a discussion on differences in magical theory between Twelve A and D, the conversation shifted with the next course.

About halfway through the course, Christopher overheard the wizard saying that “of course demons are dangerous, but they are bound by the laws of magic like anything else, and if one were to make a deal with such a creature there is always the possibility of a mutually beneficial relationship.” Cat asked a question that Christopher couldn’t quite hear, to which the answer was, “Well, that depends on what the demon wants. There are some who won’t bargain, but if you’re willing to pay the price—“

Christopher had to interrupt.

“Wizard Harold—“ “Howl.” “—whatever. I would thank you to not fill my successor’s head with such drivel.”

Howl looked over with mocking innocence. “I’m only telling the boy the truth.”

Christopher raised an eyebrow in the man’s direction before turning his attention to Cat. “I hope you know, Cat, that dealings with demons is considered extremely dangerous and irresponsible, and are often a crime that is dealt with very strictly.” Out of the corner of his eye, he noted the wizard’s sudden stillness. Christopher’s vague gaze slid back over to the other man. “And a person with a demon dealing in multiple Series even more so.”

The man’s green gaze held his for a few moments, and then turned to Cat and Marianne.

“Demons are, in my opinion, rather more reasonable than many people,” he complained.

“Then perhaps you ought to go back and ask one for help,” Christopher suggested.

“It might have done more good.”

“Might I remind you that it was _you_ who came to _me_ for help.”

“Yes, well, maybe I don’t want your help anymore,” the wizard said with a shrug, the nonchalance of his words belied by the way he shoved back his chair and began to stalk across the room.

“Take one step out that door and I’ll have you arrested for illegal inter-Series travel and immigration,” Christopher snapped, a spell half-readied in his mind.

Howl glared. “You wouldn’t.”

Christopher’s only reply was a slightly raised eyebrow and the continued holding of the other man’s gaze.


	10. In which Chrestomanci confesses some doubts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I forgot to update for a long time. Whoops.

What the hell was he doing? Even Howl himself was having a hard time justifying his own actions. Yet it was once again coming down to that if he wanted something to be done, he was going to have to do it himself. Chrestomanci had done nothing, was doing nothing, and Howl’s _son_ was out there alone but for the company of a potentially dangerous demon (more than dangerous, if Howl’s instincts were correct), and Howl wasn’t going to take it anymore. Yes, he was terrified, as usual, of having the responsibility of taking care of the problem thrust upon him, but what else was he supposed to do?

Howl stood rooted to the spot where he had been when Chrestomanci had told him to stop, trying to keep from shaking. He couldn’t decide if the shaking was from terror or anger, however. Without Calcifer there, and with the castle working against him, there was no way that he would be able to take on Chrestomanci. Even if they’d been in Ingary, Howl wouldn’t have made a sure bet, though they would be on much more even footing than they were currently. He had no choice but to go along with what the man said.

Sophie was staring at the two of them, along with Chrestomanci’s successor and his lady-friend. Even Chrestomanci’s wife was merely watching the both of them. Howl wanted to cross her even less than he wanted to cross Chrestomanci. The rest of the room had stopped eating, stopped moving, and were watching. There was a tension in the room that even someone completely without magical powers would have picked up on easily.

Sophie regained her senses just as Chrestomanci’s wife did. Sophie stood up, the sound of her chair scraping backwards loud in the quieted room.

“Now wait just a minute,” she was beginning to say, just as Chrestomanci’s wife was hissing, “Not at the dinner table, dear.”

Chrestomanci shifted slightly in his chair, his gaze finally dropping from Howl’s. Howl felt like a puppet whose strings had been cut, though he managed not to actually sag against Sophie when she came up beside him.

“It would be best if we finished this… discussion after dinner,” Chrestomanci pronounced, and picked up his fork and knife again. The rest of the room did the same.

Howl and Sophie stood away from the table until everyone had gone back to eating.

“He wouldn’t have really… would he?” Sophie whispered to Howl as they slowly went to retake their seats.

Howl shook his head slightly. “Hard to say.”

He didn’t eat much more for the rest of the meal, nor did he join back in the conversation that started up around him. Cat and Miss Pinhoe tried to engage him again, but he ignored all of their attempts in favor of seeing what sorts of patterns he could make with his fork in his food. Eventually, they stopped trying and moved on to Sophie, who was more receptive.

Every so often, Howl thought he could feel Chrestomanci’s gaze on him, though whenever he did glance up it seemed that the enchanter wasn’t really looking at anything and Howl would go back to stabbing at his food. Two more courses and the meal drew to a close. It was a wonder they got anything done, Howl, thought, with how much time they spent at one meal.

Chrestomanci called Howl and Sophie into a drawing room as soon as the meal was over and the rest had dispersed. Chrestomanci immediately leaned on the back of the nearest settee.

As soon as the door was closed behind them, Sophie was confronting Chrestomanci.

“Now look here, Chrestomanci. Howl may be quite amoral and surprisingly lacking in conscience—” “Hey!” “—but I’m sure that he wasn’t intending to corrupt Eric Chant and—“

Chrestomanci held up a hand, and Sophie trailed off.

“Dealing with demons is dangerous and illegal in this Series, and is a much higher offense when multiple Series are brought into the picture. By all rights, I should be arresting your husband but for the fact that I believe that you did not know what was in the box.” He drew a long breath and let the words sink in. “One of my friends, of which I will claim few, is still somewhere on your world collecting information about this demon that has your son.”

Sophie’s expression tightened briefly with worry, and Howl reached out to put an arm surreptitiously around her.

“Hasn’t he been gone for days now?” Howl asked.

“Yes, and I would have thought he would have been back by now,” Chrestomanci admitted. “Or at least sent word of some sort. I’m not sure what could be holding him up…”

That was why they had spent the last few days cooling their heels, Howl thought, and sighed. That was days - _days_ , the better part of a week, really - that could have been used to make plans, wasted. And aside from that, Chrestomanci had sent one of his own people into possible danger with no regard for the risk.

“You could have asked me for information,” Howl chided. “I’ve fought the thing, and it was too strong for _me_. What chance does one of your people have against it, in an unknown world?”

“Michael knew the risks when he volunteered to gather information,” Chrestomanci replied, his voice just on the edge of icy. “He is careful. We both thought we needed more information before we could proceed.”

“And look at the good its done!” Howl exclaimed, throwing his hands up.

“Well, it’s not _my_ fault—“ “Oh, no, you’re only the one who—“ “—that Michael hasn’t managed to send word—“ “—sent him there in the first place! Aren’t you his boss—“ “—and don’t you dare try to—“

“WOULD YOU TWO SHUT UP FOR A MINUTE?” yelled Sophie.

“He started it,” both Howl and Chrestomanci protested, each pointing at the other man.

“Five year olds, the both of you!” she continued, working herself into a fit. Howl hoped Chrestomanci had the sense to back down. “You would think that two grown men would have more maturity than to point fingers at one another, but no. Howl’s going to try and slither out of all responsibility, as usual, and _you_ are just as bad as he is!”

Howl risked a glance at Chrestomanci, who appeared to be doing his best to fade into the furniture, which was quite a feat considering how flashy a dresser he was, even in a suit. Chrestomanci was not a man to be ignored.

“If this Michael person hasn’t been heard from, then there’s a good chance the demon has got him somehow. So instead of sitting here arguing, why don’t you two almighty popinjays put your heads together and _do something_ ,” she finished, one hand on her hip and the other shaking a finger at the two of them like they were misbehaving schoolboys.


	11. In which Sophie proposes a plan

The door to the drawing room burst open, startling all three of the room’s occupants.

“Why is it that you three are always shouting when I’m not in the room?” Millie scolded as she hurried into the room, three large cats close on her heels.

Sophie flailed slightly and stumbled into Howl, who then used her to hide behind. Chrestomanci jumped to his feet and took three long strides to close the distance between himself and his wife.

“Perfect timing, Millie,” he said, with a touch more gusto than Sophie had heard from him up to that point. “We were just about to start planning our next move against this demon.”

Millie looked from him to Sophie and Howl, her expression only mildly bemused. One of the cats brushed up against Sophie’s leg and let out an off-key yowl. Sophie liked cats, generally. She thought this was in part due to her spending what had seemed like a very long time as one a decade earlier. The cats at Chrestomanci Castle were more like herself as a cat than any of the others she had met over the years; Millie had said that they were temple cats from the temple where she had been a goddess in her youth. The one at her feet seemed to be friendly enough, though if she tried to move at all, it was likely that the cat would be in the way just enough to trip her.

Millie’s gaze went back to her husband. “And what sort of plan are we making?”

Howl finally stepped out from behind Sophie, perching himself on the back of the settee that Chrestomanci had vacated and fixed the enchanter with a dark look. “Excellent question. What sort of plan _are_ we making?”

“ _I_ go and find Michael,” Chrestomanci said. Howl groaned. Millie drew herself up to argue.

Sophie blurted out, “That’s a terrible plan!”

Chrestomanci turned his gaze to her, his expression going vague. It made him look bored, and yet somehow even more aristocratic than he normally did. If Howl tried that look, he’d probably just look like he was moping.

“Do have a better suggestion, Mrs Peters?”

Sophie managed to keep from snapping at him that her name wasn’t Peters, but the annoyance colored her tone. “I do have a suggestion for a plan, if you don’t mind. We all go. And we find Morgan and your friend while we’re there, and deal with the demon if we can.”

Which meant that they could check on Morgan as well as they could while they were there.

“Well, that’s certainly the eventual idea,” Chrestomanci drawled.

“So why not now?” Sophie argued. “What’s the point in sitting around and making plans if they never get acted upon? You going by yourself isn’t going to get us any closer to dealing with this problem, so let’s all just go and maybe we can get this over with just a little sooner and go home.”

By the time she finished talking, she had realized that she was quite a bit more homesick than she had previously thought. She missed Ingary, she missed the castle and Calcifer, she missed Morgan and was worried sick about him besides. Had she not still been so annoyed at Chrestomanci (and Howl), she might have started to get teary.

“I must admit, I don’t like the idea of you going alone,” Millie said to Chrestomanci. “More hands couldn’t hurt, in this case.”

Howl sighed. “Sophie, this isn’t a plan. We can’t just walk in blind again.”

“I don’t see you coming up with any better ideas,” Sophie grumped.

“As much as I am opposed to the plan, your wife has a point,” Chrestomanci added. “As does my own. We need information, _I_ need information. Reconnaissance is better done with fewer people, but as we don’t know entirely what we’re dealing with, it may be a boon to have more eyes along.”

Howl scowled as mighty a scowl as Sophie had ever seen him manage. She had a feeling that the two of them would be continuing this conversation later on.

“If we do this, we do it quickly, and we do it quietly,” Howl finally conceded.

It was a concession, too, and not even remotely Howl being convinced of the plan. They had better solidify things before they found themselves burdened with all sorts of extra caveats and agreements. Howl could be surprisingly shrewd sometimes, Sophie had found.

“Agreed,” said Millie. “But we are not setting off without making sure we have a few things.”

Chrestomanci nodded. “Best get what you need, then. I was thinking of setting off tonight.” He glanced over at Howl. “And we ought to avoid that portal of yours if at all possible. I don’t want to alert the demon to its existence if it hasn’t already found it.”

Howl gave the man a sneering smile and spoke through gritted teeth. “Of course. What a good thing that I didn’t suggest going in through the front door.”

Somewhat to Sohpie’s relief, Chrestomanci did nothing more than give Howl a withering look this time.

“We leave in two hours,” Chrestomanci announced, striding towards the door. “Meet me in the castle foyer before then or I’ll have no qualms about leaving you behind.”

Millie followed close on his heels, and before they knew it, Sophie and Howl were left alone in the drawing room to contemplate how to fill the next two hours before they went to try and avoid facing a demon while still spying on it.

After a long silence, Howl hopped over the back of the settee he’d been perching on and landed on it on his back with a loud _floompf_. Sophie braced herself for the usual bout of complaints, whining, and general immaturity that accompanied that sort of despondent behavior.

To Sophie’s immense surprise, none of it came. When she looked over at Howl, he had the palms of his hands pressed to his eyes, and his breathing was so even that she thought he must have been counting them.

“Howl…”

“Just let me be, Sophie,” Howl groaned.

It was just pathetic enough that it got on Sophie’s nerves.

“Don’t you take that tone with me, Howell Jenkins,” she started.

“Please, Sophie. I just… need to be alone and think for a while. Please.”

The fact that Howl had said “please” was enough to throw Sophie off her rant. She sighed.

“Alright. But if you’re not down in that foyer when Chrestomanci gets there, I will drag you down there by your hair, if I must,” she warned, and then left her husband to his thoughts. She only wished that he might share them every once in a while.


	12. In which a large spell is cast

Millie followed Christopher to their private sitting room, where he promptly deposited himself into a large, plush chair by the fireplace and proceeded to brood. She paid him no mind and went to change out of her dinner dress into more practical clothing and then to gather the things she had wanted into a small basket that held far more than its size ought to have allowed.

Bits of clothing, a hairbrush, a few packages of food summoned up from the kitchens, some old (non-silver) utensils, pencils, paper, an assortment of coins from various places (again, no silver, but well over a quarter of them gold), and some basic first aid materials were packed away into the basket, and that set aside on the low sitting room table. It had been nearly an hour (the food had taken some time to prepare and package), and Christopher hadn’t moved except to take off his jacket.

If it were anyone else lounging in a chair like Christopher was, Millie would have assumed that they were entirely relaxed and possibly about to fall asleep. Because it was Christopher, however, she knew that it was likely the exact opposite. Mind running at full tilt, he ceased to attend to the world immediately around him; his vague looks meant that he was paying close attention to whatever was happening, but this was different. There was nothing for him to pay attention _to_. Whatever his mind was working over, it was all inside his head, and Millie couldn’t help him if he wasn’t going to share his thoughts.

“Anything on your mind, love?” she asked. Obviously there was, or he wouldn’t have been sitting there for so long. He was quiet for so long that she began to wonder if he’d heard her.

Finally, he replied, “I don’t like it, Millie.”

“Don’t like what? The plan? True, it’s not much of one, but I like it far better than you running off and trying to handle it on your own.”

“What’s wrong with me handling things on my own?”

Millie opted to take that question as a rhetorical one. All answering would do would be to start them arguing, and there was no time for that at the moment. Instead, she turned the conversation back to her original question.

“Have you come to some decision?”

Christopher waved a hand dismissively. “Hardly. We need to find Michael, which ought to be the main point of this excursion, but I also cannot dismiss the need for information, which Michael may or may not have, which means that we must _also_ gather information of our own. This lack of it is infuriating, I cannot even make a proper plan like this.”

“Perhaps you should speak with Wizard Pendragon and Sophie before we leave. As the wizard pointed out, he is knowledgeable about the place, if nothing else.”

Christopher frowned. “I’m not sure I entirely trust that man.”

“You think he and his wife are leading you on?”

“No, it’s not that. There’s just… something about him that sets me on edge.”

“You’re sure you’re not just still annoyed about his fashion sense?” Millie teased, trying not to grin. “Or lack thereof?” Some part of her brain wondered if the wizard had similar thoughts about Christopher’s fashions.

“Be serious, Millie,” Christopher tsked. “Of course it’s not that.”

“Oh, lighten up, Christopher. You’re being perfectly miserable,” Millie snapped back. “That suspicious mind of yours is jumping at shadows is all. We’ll go get Michael, get some information, and all be home by dinnertime tomorrow.”

Christopher sighed deeply. “I do hope you’re right, love.”

Seeing that he was not about to stop brooding, Millie left him to it, and went to tell Miss Bessemer, Tom, and a few of the others where Chrestomanci would be for the next day.

It wasn’t that she thought that Christopher was being unreasonable in his caution; on the contrary, caution was something that he could have done with more often. She trusted his instincts about people, in general, and if he said that there was something off about Howl Pendragon, then she wasn’t going to dismiss the possibility. However, she also wasn’t about to take him at his word when her own instincts were telling her that the Pendragons were as they seemed. It was the nature of magic users to keep their own counsel and give off an air of secrecy and mystery. She hadn’t noticed anything particularly sinister about Wizard Pendragon, though. In powerful magic users like him, those traits tended to bubble up to the surface more noticeably than others.

The wizard and Sophie were waiting in the foyer when she came down, ten minutes before the time Christopher had declared as when they were leaving. Both of them had also changed out of the clothing they’d worn to dinner, though Wizard Pendragon still looked alarmingly overdressed compared to herself and Sophie. She had learned in the few days that they had been at Chrestomanci Castle that this was the normal state of affairs, however, and was one of the reasons Millie had teased Christopher. The wizard’s penchant for making the rest of the world look like it was underdressed by comparison was so like her husband that she couldn’t help but be amused.

Millie went over to her guests, who were standing near the pentagon set into the foyer’s floor.

“Everyone ready?” she asked. It had been a long time since she’d gone to another Series. She was starting to get a little excited, despite the circumstances. Or perhaps the feeling was apprehension. She decided it was both.

Sophie nodded, looking about how Millie felt. Wizard Pendragon looked resigned and tired.

“We should try to find your friend first,” the wizard said. “And we can assess the situation from there.”

From the grim set of his jaw, Millie thought that he still wasn’t altogether pleased with how everything had gone. He did have a point, however. If Michael was in any sort of trouble, they ought to get him out of it as quickly as they could.

Christopher swept down the stairs a few minutes later, finally changed out of his evening wear and into something much more practical and resembling nondescript (for him); morning dress would probably be innocuous enough in Series Three. If Wizard Pendragon’s wardrobe was anything to judge by, however, the cut would still look a little too modern.

A brief frown passed over Christopher’s features as he surveyed the ones gathered at the foot of the stair, but that familiar vague look slid into place before it had become noticeable to anyone but Millie.

“Transporting four people is going to require no small amount of energy, so I’ll ask that each of you lend me some of your power so that none of us is too drained,” he said as soon as he’d cleared the bottom stair. He waited long enough for the rest of them to nod before spinning on his heel and flinging out his hands as he formed a spell. “Wizard, concentrate on where in your world we ought to be going. Millie, concentrate on a path between my mind and his. Mrs Parker, concentrate on keeping everything steady. Everyone take a step on my mark.”

The force of the building magics pressed in around them, until Christopher finally barked out the order.

“Now!”


	13. In which many things go wrong

At first, everything went smoothly. But as Christopher felt them pass into Series Three World B, it was as if they had stepped off a platform and onto a trampoline. What had been a steady footing became unstable and unpredictable, and it was too late to try and warn the others. They had stepped at the same time he had, and instead of feeling the reassuring strength of the threads keeping them together, it was all he could do to keep himself from landing somewhere entirely unknown. He couldn’t tell where the others would bounce to if the threads were lost.

His step landed with a stumble as the ground began sooner than he had anticipated. He caught himself before he completely fell over. It was late afternoon in this world, and he was in the middle of a very large expanse of grassy nothing. It wasn’t until he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and heard an “oof!” come from the same direction that he realized he wasn’t alone.

It was the wizard’s wife. Unfortunately, the wizard himself and Christopher’s own wife were nowhere to be seen.

The woman looked up at Christopher from where she had stumbled, tripped, and then sat in the grassy field they were in the middle of. She had been mildly cursing under her breath, but stopped when she saw Christopher’s eyes on her.

“What happened?” she asked.

Christopher shrugged and went back to looking around. “Something interfered with the spell when we got to your world.”

“It felt like we… bounced. But this is Ingary, then?”

“I’m not sure. You’ll have to tell me,” Christopher drawled. He pointed in the direction where he had spotted a city some ways in the distance, and thought he saw the glitter of the sea just beyond it. “There’s a city, there. Possibly a coast, as well. Can you tell where we are, Mrs Parkinson?”

She scrambled up beside him, saying, “Maybe you should just call me Sophie.”

She looked in the direction he had been pointing for a few moments, then nodded.

“That’s Porthaven. We’re definitely in Ingary.”

That, at least, was somewhat good news. Christopher had hoped they hadn’t all been thrown too far off their course, or it should have proven quite a bit more difficult to accomplish their missions. If two of them had managed to land it the right country, then there was a chance the others had, as well.

He realized belatedly that Sophie had asked him something else. “What?”

She eyed him for a moment, but repeated her question. “I said, what are we going to do now?”

Christopher pondered this for a minute, continuing to look off at the city in the distance. There were three things to be done, to his mind, and he wasn’t sure what order would be the most effective use of time. They had to get information on the demon, they had to find Michael, and now they also had to find Millie and the wizard.

They knew roughly where they were, and with the city nearby, there had to be some way of contacting the others, or of beginning to find where Michael was. The demon… well, he wanted to leave that as a last resort once he knew better what he might be dealing with from Michael’s information, if there was any.

“We find Michael,” he said finally. “We’ll look for the others after that.”

His erstwhile companion sighed, and began to trudge off in the direction of the city.

“Alright, then, fine,” she said. “Then we’d best be on our way if we want to make it before nightfall.”

Christopher obediently began to follow, tucking his hands into his trouser pockets, but his long strides caught him up to Sophie quickly. They walked in silence for much of the way. Christopher caught her glancing at him as if she was about to ask him something more than once, but she never spoke up, and Christopher didn’t mind being left to his own thoughts.

As they got closer to the city, Christopher finally broke the silence to inquire about the city.

“You recognized the city,” he commented.

“Part of the castle used to be here,” she explained.

“Where do you think would be the most likely place to find information, specifically if we’re looking for a person?” he asked.

“I’d start in the market square,” she suggested. “See if anyone’s seen him.”

“There’s no police station, I take it?”

She shook her head. “Just the town guard, but they won’t be as helpful as the market gossip, unless your friend managed to get himself locked up. In which case, the guard still won’t be much help.”

“Wonderful,” Christopher muttered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Then, more loudly he noted, “You don’t seem particularly worried about the demon finding you here.”

“While I was concentrating on keeping things steady, I was also concentrating on not landing us all right in front of the demon,” she explained. “So I was expecting that it would apply to me, and since you’re here to, it’s applied to you. I just hope that it didn’t get lost with the others…”

They walked in silence until the crest of the last hill, when Sophie spoke up again.

“What if your friend isn’t here?” she asked.

Christopher had already resigned himself to the fact that it was unlikely they had been miraculously dumped in the very city that Michael had ended up. The easiest way to find Michael, he had determined, was to follow whatever information trail the man had been on, and hope to end up in the same place. It was a stretch, at best. At worst, they would end up in the same predicament that Michael was in, whatever that was.

“Then we go somewhere else and try again,” was all Christopher said, though.

Sophie raised an eyebrow in his direction, which Christopher magnanimously ignored, and they continued their trek towards the city.


	14. In which Millie meets a demon

Something had gone wrong. Howl wasn’t sure just what it was that had gone wrong but it was definitely something and it was definitely wrong. The thought was reinforced when he nearly face-planted into a flower bed with Sophie nowhere in sight. Chrestomanci was nowhere to be found, either. For a few moments, Howl thought that he was alone in a strange land, somewhere that was not where he had been trying to aim them.

He looked around and realized two things: one, that he knew exactly where he was, and two, that he was not actually alone.

Just up the hill from the flower bed he had avoided lying in was the manor house that was one of the entrances to his moving castle, which meant that the field of flowers had been on the edge of the Waste ten years ago, though it was now a few miles from the edge thanks to the efforts of his fellow Royal Wizard. About ten yards from him was Chrestomanci’s wife, inspecting a row of flowers with an inquisitive look on her face.

Howl made his way over and she stood as he came up to her.

“Are the others here somewhere?” he asked, looking around expectantly.

“I haven’t seen them,” Millie responded. “If they are around here, it’s somewhere we can’t see.”

Calling up just enough of a wind to allow him to get a higher vantage point, Howl surveyed the area. The flowers ended just at the horizon and led into the Waste in one direction, and in another lay fields and farmland that would eventually turn to marshes and lakes. As far as he could see, which wasn’t as far as he would have liked because of the growing darkness of the evening, there were no other people anywhere nearby. He landed again gracefully, the dissipation of the wind stirring the flowers wildly.

“Nothing,” he complained. “No one in sight. Wherever the others have gotten to, it’s not anywhere near us.”

Which left most of the world for them to have ended up at.

“We could always call my husband and see if he shows up,” Millie suggested, but Howl shook his head. “Do you know what happened, anyway?”

“It was the demon,” Howl explained. He’d recognized the feel of its power when they hit the bubble of magic that sent the four of them flying off course. “I don’t think it realized that we’d run into its spell, or it might have caught us all up.”

He set off towards the manor house, with Millie following behind him after a few seconds.

“Where are you going?” she asked with the tone of a disapproving mother.

“There’s a few things I need to get,” he said without looking back at her. Let her think what she would of him, he just needed to nip into the castle, grab a few spells and ingredients, and then he’d be out again. Surely the demon had left the castle, he reasoned with himself, there was nothing keeping it there and therefore he was definitely not walking straight into danger.

“From where?” Millie continued questioning. “What do you need to get?”

“The manor house up ahead leads to my castle, if you must know, and I just need to get some things, alright?”

“And what if the demon is there?”

“Then I’ll ask you to kindly create a distraction while I grab what I need.”

She followed him in silence for a few moments, and Howl didn’t need to turn and look to imagine the scrutinizing look she was giving him; he could feel it boring into his back.

“How long does this distraction need to last?” she asked finally.

“Not long.”

Howl reached out to the handle on the manor house’s large door and cracked it open just a sliver before letting it open fully. Inside was the kitchen, more or less just how he and Sophie had left it. He held it open for Millie to pass through first, more to let her start her distraction should it be needed than out of some sense of chivalry. He pulled the door closed behind him, leaving the painted wheel above the door just as it had been.

Millie had stopped dead and was looking intently at something.

“Get out of here, Wizard,” she hissed, beginning to form a spell. “The demon’s in here!”

Following her line of sight, Howl realized what she had seen, and where the demon was. He leaped in front of her, spinning to face her and holding his arms out in front of him.

“Nonononono,” he exclaimed. “That’s not the demon! That’s just Calcifer!”

Millie paused, taking her attention momentarily away from Calcifer, who had been hiding amongst the coals of the kitchen fire but flared up at the first sign of trouble.

“Calcifer? But it _is_ a demon.”

“Yes, well, he’s not the demon we’re worried about,” Howl said, slowly lowering his hands.

“You mean you weren’t worried about me at _all_?” Calcifer whined at Howl’s back. “After you left me here on my own? And who’s this, anyway? Where’s Sophie?”

“I think you had better explain,” Millie prompted Howl.

“Calcifer is a friend,” Howl said to Millie. Then, “Calcifer, this is Millie. She’s helping us find Morgan.”

“Oh. Well, that’s alright, then,” said Calcifer, settling back into the coals again.

Millie looked in askance at Howl and Calcifer. “You have strange taste in friends, Wizard.”

Howl shrugged and turned his attention to Calcifer.

“What’s happened since we left?” he asked the fire demon. “And where were you during all that mess?”

“I was here! Keeping the castle from falling apart, among other things,” Calcifer replied, as if he was offended that Howl had needed to ask.

“You might have come to help us, you know,” Howl said coldly.

“No thanks,” replied Calcifer. “I could have told you how horrible your plan was, had you asked. Did you really think you could just go at it like that? The last few years must have scrambled your brains when it comes to dealing with demons.”

“My brains are perfectly fine, thank you, Calcifer,” Howl retorted.

“Suliman’s alright, by the way. Lettie came by to tell me. The demon and Morgan went missing not long after you and Sophie left.”

“Missing?”

“I haven’t seen or felt a trace of them,” Calcifer clarified, “and neither has anyone else, to my knowledge.”

Howl swore under his breath. “It’s definitely still here, somewhere. Is the yard still in one piece? My workbench?”

“Everything’s where you left it.”

Without another word, Howl rushed off to gather the spells and things he had come for. After that, they would make a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive, I promise! Thank you so much to all of you reading, whether you've stuck with me since the beginning or you just found this last week. <3


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